


Christmas in the Air

by Niji_Hitomi_Iscariot



Series: Getting Used To It [6]
Category: One Piece
Genre: 12 Days of Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-03 16:25:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2857364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niji_Hitomi_Iscariot/pseuds/Niji_Hitomi_Iscariot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>12 days of Winter Holidays from the Getting Used to It crew, both past and present.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. ASL Brothers - Age 10

“CHRISTMAS!!!!! ACE!!! SABO!!! CHRISTMAS CHRISTMAS!!! GETUPGETUPGETUP!!!!” Luffy jumped on the bed between his brothers, clearly having already gotten into the holiday candy.

Sabo glared, his nose wrinkled up, and one eye still closed. “Luffy…”

“Lu…” Ace grumbled, burying his nose into the pillow more. “S’not even dawn!”

The youngest flopped onto his belly, grinning like crazy. “SO!?!?” Then his voice dropped to a hushed whisper, “Bet we can catch Santa in the act! And steal all the presents!”

“Presents?” The note of intrigue in the blond’s voice was enough to convince the other to look up as well.

Luffy nodded vigorously.

For a moment the three boys froze, looking at each other. Then as one, they piled out of their shared bedroom into the hall jostling each other to be the first one out into the living room. The sounds of their voices echoed down the corridor before them, as Sabo and Ace tried to keep Luffy quiet, only to be too loud themselves. They literally tumbled into the family room over one of the runner rugs into a pile of tangled limbs and pulled hair.

A wash of multicolored fairy lights broke their sleep-deprived tension and they stilled, Luffy on the bottom, his chin on the ground with the rug bunched under him, followed by Sabo, who was tangled between one of Luffy’s legs and Ace’s arm around his head, and finally Ace on top, his arms caught in Sabo’s grip and his legs pinned around Luffy’s waist.

As one they let out an awed ‘ooooooooooooh!’

Deep chuckling from over their heads drew their attention to the couch. Gramps had Dadan’s hand over his mouth to keep him from laughing out loud, Dragon was smiling into his mug of either coffee or eggnog—it was hard to tell which—but more importantly, on the other loveseat were the reason the other adults were still up.

 _“Mama!! Pappi!!”_ Ace untangled himself entirely, and launched his ten-year-old body over the distance with more force than should have been possible.

“Merry Christmas, Squishy!” Rouge cuddled her son into her lap, and Roger laughed loud and bright, reaching over to scruffle the boy’s hair.

Luffy took that as a cue to attack the pile of presents under the tree in the corner with a whoop and a kick into Sabo’s stomach.

“LUFFY!!!” The blond growled, chasing after him.

And Ace was right after the other two, “OI!!! DON’T HOG ‘EM ALL!!”

Within minutes there was nothing left but a pile of torn paper and opened boxes. Luffy was burrowing under it all like some kind of human cat, and Sabo was sitting on the back of the couch with the remote control to a battery-operated car. Ace was once again curled up with his parents, watching the other two and nursing a black eye where he’d caught Luffy’s elbow earlier.

“Try under the tree again.” He called pointing to where there was a mound of tissue paper next to the wall.

“I already looked there!”

“Well it can’t have just disappeared! It’s a toy for Heaven’s sake!!” Sabo groused.

At some point in the middle of the chaos, Dadan, Dragon, and Garp had snuck off downstairs, and the scent of frying ham filtered up through the stairs. Luffy took all of two seconds to react to it.

“MEAT!!!!!!” He bolted towards the steps leading to the Revolution itself, Sabo hot on his heels.

“Oi oi oi!! Wait for me!!” Ace cried, aiming to get out of his mother’s arms.

He barely got to the top of the stairs when Dadan’s voice bellowed back at them, “GIT BACK UP WHERE YOU BELONG YOU LITTLE GOOD-FOR-NOTHINGS!! S’NOT READY YET!!”

There came the sound of squabbling and Roger grinned at his wife. Then he stood, setting his coffee mug on the table again, and waded into the mess of dead paper. Concentrate screwed his mouth and moustache to one side. With all the care he took when excavating an ancient ruin he extracted something that looked an awful lot like one radio-controlled car.

“OH BOYS!” He called down the steps, and three heads appeared around the corner. He held up the toy, “Missing something?”

“YOU FOUND IT!!” Sabo whooped.

Luffy threw his fists up in the air, “GO UNCLE ROGE!!”

“YEAH PAPPI!!” Ace agreed, just as all three of them barreled back up the stairs to reclaim their prize.

It hadn’t been the only thing the boys got from Santa, but it was clearly the favorite. And Rouge had to admit it was testament to how closely bonded the three boys were that they didn’t fight over who got to control it. Whoever got the remote devised a game all three of them to could play together, though the two ten-year-olds were better at it than their little brother.

“The hero who saved Christmas?” She chuckled at her husband, and he beamed, as they ran past heading to their bedroom for more of whatever game had their focus at the moment.

“YOSH!”

Hours later, the boys had torn through the rest of their toys and as a result were all laid out on the stage of Revolution, with handheld game devices hovering over their faces.

“Getitgetitgetit!!” Luffy growled, mashing buttons.

“I’m working on it!” Ace responded, equally growling.

Sabo grunted, jerking a little with his character when the giant tiger on their shared screen roared, throwing all three of them to the ground. “If somebody would learn the combos this wouldn’t be so hard.”

“I know the combos!” Luffy whined.

Ace elbowed him, “Do not!”

“Do too!!” Luffy pushed him back.

“Do not!!”

“DO TOO!”

“DO NOT!!”

“ACE! LUFFY!” Dragon’s voice cut through their argument. “It’s just a game.”

Both brunet boys huffed. Especially as the argument was technically Sabo’s fault in the first place. They both took their retaliation on him, by letting him be chased by the tiger.

“EY! Guys!!” He huffed, his character nearly dying after only just barely evading the cat’s paw. “A little help here?!”

Luffy drew his character back, the tinny voice coming through the speakers in warning that he was charging an attack, and Ace positioned his own so that he could take advantage of the release when it was ready.

“Lu?”

“Yeah. Now.”

“Kay!”

With an electronic shout, Luffy’s character launched Ace’s character high into the air, and there was a spin and a flash, and when the screens cleared, the tiger was dead. There was a crater underneath them, and all three characters stood on top of it while the victory song played.

As one the boys cheered, “YEAH!!”

“Brats! Supper’s ready!” Dadan broke through their revelry from the kitchen. “Come set the table!”

“WHOOOOO MEAT!!!!” Luffy nearly threw his game device in his rush to get up.

Luckily Ace caught it and shut it down properly, grumbling about impatient little brothers the whole time. Sabo just laughed, and took the three of them back upstairs so that Dragon wouldn’t yell again, or worse, sick Gramps on them.

When he came back down Dogra was just setting the stack of plates in the middle of the big communal table they used for holidays. Really it was three of the biggest round tables from Revolution with a custom frame latched around them to make a long rectangle, and then covered with a cloth, but the idea was there. And it was hard to remember it wasn’t all one table once they got the plates set around it, with silverware, and glasses, a couple of candles in the middle to frame the platter of ham and turkey, and a pair of holly sprigs in what would have been the centers of the two round tables on either end.

Even Luffy behaved himself, peering over the edge at the whole set up, his eyes lit up from the candle glow. “It’s really pretty, Dadan.”

The big woman scruffled his hair after setting the platter down in the middle, “Go wash up, brat.”

“I wasn’t gonna take it!” He protested.

“Sure you weren’t, go wash up anyway.” She chuckled, booting him in the butt lightly. “And take your good-for-nothing brothers with you!”

“AW!”

“Dadan!!”

The other two whined from where they had been about to pull open a cracker.

Garp knocked both of their heads with a Fist of Love™, “Mind your grandmother!”

“OI!” The redheaded woman stormed towards their grandfather, “I ain’t nobody’s grandmother!!”

“Ahhhh!!” The older man squirmed away from her, smiling nervously, and edging towards the kitchen because everybody knew she wouldn’t do anything in there.

Ace, Luffy, and Sabo laughed, happier that the attention was away from them than actually understanding why the grownups were acting that way. At least until Dragon came up behind them, his shadow causing Sabo to look up, then nudge the other two so that all three of them were smiling innocently. He raised an eyebrow and cleared his throat, and all three took off for the men’s room on the other side of the stage to wash up for dinner.

Getting everyone to sit down and wait patiently for grace was something of a task with Luffy at the table. Though Ace and Sabo weren’t much better, and if they were truly honest with themselves, Dragon, Garp, and Roger were like adult versions of the three boys—only held in line by the threat of Dadan’s wooden spoon!

“Roger!”

The big man sucked the piece of ham into his mouth with a huge grin. Across the table Luffy mimicked him, hiding his own piece in his lap since Dadan was watching, but as soon as her back was turned both he and his uncle slurped down another piece each. For which they both earned a smack to the backs of their heads.

“So help me…” she swore, stomping off to the kitchen only because Rouge and Dogra had other dishes to put down.

The other menfolk, and boys, were quick to take their places with Garp at the head of the table, the adults on one side, the boys on the other. Dogra and the other staff of Revolution filled in the final seats leaving the position next to Garp’s left hand for Dadan when she stormed back out of the kitchen with pitchers of water, milk for the boys, and beer. Tucked into her pocket was a bottle of wine for Rouge, and her hair was finally let down out of her working ponytail.

She sat and everyone jumped at the center of the table to grab their portions. Ham; turkey; potatoes in baked with cheese and mashed versions; green bean casserole; carrots with orange glaze; sauerkraut with bacon; a salad of pineapple, cherries, figs, and fresh papaya; another salad of actual greens and sliced veggies; three types of corn; and the crowning achievements sat on the bar for after they’d stuffed themselves: 3 pies—cherry, pumpkin, and apple; and a Brazilian dish called _Rabanada_ , which was something like French toast only a million times better!

Under a critical eye, Dadan kept watch for when everyone had mounds of food on their plates, but hadn’t taken too many bites of it yet—asking for them to not have taken any was impossible with Luffy and Roger at the table—and when they had, she loudly pushed her chair out, standing to get their attention. When Luffy didn’t look up, she cleared her throat, and it took an elbow into his side to make him put the leg of turkey down.

“BUT GRAMPS IS EATING!” He gestured with it, and Garp went pale, his fork in his mouth.

He set it down deliberately under Dadan’s look, and huffed, “That wasn’t eating, that was tasting!”

A snicker ran down the table, but the matriarch ignored it in favor of lifting her tankard of beer. “To wine, to food, to friends, to family! _Sláinte!_ ”

She clanked it with Garp’s and the rest of them cheered back at her, all with their various cups, mugs, and glasses raised, _“Sláinte!_ ”


	2. Zoro - Age 9, 12, and 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Canon Character Death, Implied Child Abuse/Neglect
> 
> C'mon, y'all know who I mean.

“Are you lost, little one?” The man’s voice was gentle.

He was tall, compared to certain perspectives anyway, his hair—just barely touched with grey—was pulled back into a sensible tail at the nape of his neck, and his smile was warm. Something the nine-year-old standing in front of him was sorely lacking. By contrast where the man had a thick jacket, the boy’s was threadbare. The man’s boots were weather-proof and comfortable; the boy’s looked like they pinched his toes with every step. He had no gloves or scarf, and his hat had holes filled in with fluffy green fabric of some kind.

He scowled, his brow too heavy for a child that young, and he muttered, “The buildings move.”

“Hm, that they do. Especially at this time of night.” The man shifted his parcels in his arms so he could extend a hand to the boy.

Who looked as though that was the first time anyone had actually believed him, the scowl evaporating and he shot his hand out to grab onto the adult’s.

“Do you know where you’re supposed to be?”

“No.” The scowl came back, and he looked at his shoes with a touch of color on his cheeks that had nothing to do with the cold.

“Can you tell me where you were trying to get to then?”

The boy looked like he was concentrating, or bracing himself against the wind. Or the cold? Hm, or punishment maybe? He man wasn’t sure, but it took several minutes of silence before the boy mumbled that he couldn’t remember.

“Well, that’s alright. I have a daughter about your age. She doesn’t much know where she’s supposed to be these days either. I think we’re all a bit lost this year.” There was a sad note in the man’s voice that made the boy look up at him curiously. Then he shook it off and smiled warmly again, “Would you like to come home with me for tonight? Nobody should be out on their own on Christmas Eve.”

“What’s Christmas Eve?” Bright green eyes, too old for their young face, blinked up at him in confusion and the man’s heart shattered.

“You’ll just have to come along so I can teach you.”

“Are you a teacher? You don’t sound like a teacher.” The boy groused suspiciously, though he hadn’t noticed they were already several blocks from where they’d started.

The man laughed, “You could say that, but I’m not like most teachers. The more appropriate word is _sensei.”_

 _“Sensei?”_ He sounded like he was trying the word on for size in his mouth.

The man paused when the boy tugged on his hand. They looked at each other for a few moments; then the boy let go and for the length of a heartbeat the man thought he was going to run off into the cold, but he didn’t. He folded his hands together—backwards—and bowed, so low that his back was parallel to the pavement.

Then he spoke in flawless Japanese, with a slight Hokkaido accent, _“Thank you for your consideration, Sensei. My name is Roronoa Zoro, and I have no home.”_

“Even the rolling moss has a home in the ocean, Zoro. Come.” Sensei took his hand again, leading him down the sidewalk and around several corners to a snug single-level house with a high fence.

Zoro never could pinpoint where exactly the alley where Koshiro found him was, but as soon as he passed the boulder with his sensei’s name carved into it, he knew he would never forget how to get to this place. It called to him somewhere deep in his tiny soul.

Inside the home, the living room had an impressive bonsai tree, bigger than Zoro had ever seen before, and it was decorated with popcorn strings and cranberries held together with rice and ribbon. Candles ringed the base, and pair of bright red birds fit together similar to a Yin Yang at the top.

He pulled his hat off in awe—revealing the holes to actually be holes, and the fuzzy green to be his hair—and held it in his hands, frozen in the entryway. He fidgeted a little. His instinct told him to remove his boots but he wasn’t comfortable doing so until he saw Koshiro do it. His jacket came next, and it was all the man could do to not gasp when he saw the state of the boy’s shirt. What sort of person left their son out in the middle of winter in a tank top?!

Just then he was pulled from his thoughts by a hard, young, voice, “Why’s your hair green? It’s weird.”

“I dunno. Why’re you hiding behind the corner? You afraid?!” Zoro snapped back, baring his teeth.

The other child jumped up to their feet on the cushions. “M’not scared!!”

“Kuina, don’t stand on the couch.” Koshiro chided, though a smile threatened to undermine his authority. The pair of them were just too cute arguing like that.

“Kuina’s a funny name for a boy.” Zoro wrinkled his nose.

Jumping over the back of the couch, the dark-haired ten-year-old crossed their arms over their chest and sniffed, “Shows what you know! I’m a girl!!”

“Uh huh, then how come you’re not pretty?”

Koshiro was fairly sure that was honest confusion on Zoro’s face rather than insult, but between the sharpness of his tone and the hard edges carved into his face, Kuina didn’t see it that way. She acted before he could do anything.

“BECAUSE I’M GONNA BE THE WORLD’S STRONGEST SWORDSMAN!?!” She shrieked, launching herself at Zoro.

A moment of shock was all the boy had before he had to fend her off, rolling with her and kicking in a way that reminded the adult in the room of a pair of puppies. That was probably why he let it continue for a while. They wrestled and bounced, hair was pulled and elbows flew into soft spots, sure to leave bruises come morning, but Koshiro didn’t step in until Zoro got a good mouthful of Kuina’s arm and the girl yelped.

“Ok, ok, break it up. If you want to do more than that you’ll have to take the bokken into the sparring room, and Zoro, no biting, that wasn’t fair.”

“How’s her tackling me fair!?” The boy asked, rubbing his nose with his arm.

Kuina stuck her tongue out at him, nursing her arm, “You asked for it.”

“Did not!”

“Did too! You called me ugly!”

“I did not! I said you weren’t pretty!”

“SAME THING!” She huffed, her hands in fists at her sides.

He mimicked her, putting them forehead to—well, nose because she was several inches taller, “NO IT’S NOT! You’re not pretty! No bows, or ribbons, or make up, or other stupid shit!”

“That stuff doesn’t make you pretty! AND DON’T SWEAR OR DAD’LL GET OUT THE SOAP!”

“DON’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!!”

They growled at each other, lightning struck between their eyes, until Koshiro tugged on both of their collars. He gave them both a stern look.

“I said enough.”

“Sorry, Sensei.” They chorused.

He gave a small nod. “Understood. Now, Kuina, show Zoro where the bathroom is while I reheat dinner. There’s just enough time to for evening meditation before bed. Early tonight or Santa won’t come.”

The girl’s face lit up at the mention of the mythical man in red. She grabbed Zoro’s hand and tugged him around her father towards a hall off to the left, “C’mon! If we’re lucky Dad won’t hog all the eggrolls!”

Dinner was the best miso soup and onigiri Zoro had ever tasted, followed by dongo rolled in powdered sugar, and hot chocolate! WITH MARSHMELLOWS!! He wasn’t sure he did the meditation right though. He kept peeking out at Koshiro and Kuina because he was sure he was going to fall asleep if he just sat there with his eyes closed the whole time, and he couldn’t do that! Kuina would never let him live it down!! After that was a bath, and a present of pyjamas out of nowhere that had a map printed on the shirt and compass points like snowflakes scattered in a random pattern on the pants. Then Koshiro tucked them both into Kuina’s bed, and read them the poem The Night Before Christmas in Japanese, which Zoro thought was much better than the way the lady at the library had read it earlier. Especially now that he knew that the night before Christmas actually was.

Koshiro turned out the light, gave them each a kiss without hesitating even though he’d only just met Zoro that day, and closed the door.

As soon as he was gone, Kuina hopped back out of bed and dove under it, “Wanna see my sword?!”

“Sword?!” Zoro echoed, leaning over the edge to stare at her back.

Her voice was muffled under the mattress and blankets, “Yeah! It was my Jiisan’s before he died! Dad said because I practice so hard with the bokken that I could have it for my tenth birthday!” She wriggled back, pulling something with her. “It’s gorgeous!”

“Aren’t we supposed to be sleeping?”

She popped up, nearly knocking heads with him, to end up nose to nose, “Do you know nothing of Christmas?! The grownups tell us to go to bed, ‘cause if we don’t Santa won’t come, but we’re supposed to stay up as late as possible to try and catch him! Otherwise how do we know if he’s real?”

“Of course he’s real! The guy in the story saw him! Why would he say he saw him if he didn’t?” Zoro sat back, scowling. Was the Clement C whatever guy a liar too? Were all grownups??

“Well…” Kuina sat back on her heels with a slightly dusty katana case in her lap, “has he ever brought you anything before?”

The boy fiddled with the blanket. “…no…”

“How come?”

“I’unno.” Suddenly he didn’t feel like talking anymore.

Then she was up on the bed with him and seemed to have picked up on his change in mood. Picking on him when he was okay was one thing, but teasing him now just felt wrong. So, she flung an arm over his shoulder, and leaned on him.

“I bet it was ‘cause you didn’t have a place where he could climb down the chimney. Like in the book. Kinda hard to leave presents for people if they don’t have a tree to put ‘em under, you know?”

“You think so?” He looked at her worriedly.

“I know more about this Christmas stuff than you do yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Then I know so!”

“Okay!” He smiled, and leaned back into her shoulder with a nudge of his own. “Now show me your sword!!”

The next morning it seemed like Kuina had been right, almost all of the presents under the tree were addressed to Zoro from Santa. It was like the big man in red had been saving up all those years when Zoro hadn’t had a Christmas, and in his mind, the only answer could be that it was because he hadn’t had a tree or a chimney before. Kuina didn’t seem to get many though, so Zoro shared most of his with her, though that was mostly because he didn’t really know what to do with them, and she did.

At the end of the morning, however, Koshiro had to drive Zoro back to the group home where he actually lived, but that one night set up a pattern of him wandering into the house attached to the dojo almost every day for several years. Every Christmas Eve he spent the night, whether the state said he was allowed to or not, and every Christmas Morning, Santa would have left a mound of presents, though not quite as many for just him as there had been that first year. It took until the Christmas after his twelfth birthday before he figured out how to give something back to Kuina for that first night. Only, over the years, she’d grown more stubborn in accepting things from him, so the afternoon of that Christmas Eve, he had to literally corner her in the dojo to give it to her.

“Here!” He thrust the gift forward, glaring off to the side and furiously denying any color on his cheeks. He resolutely refused to admit he’d gotten turned around looking for her.

The young teen girl blinked at him, “What?”

“It’s a present, doofus, you’re s’posed to take it and open it.”

“I KNOW THAT!” She smacked him in the head with her bokken.

“OI!!” His hands flew to the offended spot, dropping the present—the cotton balls and cleaning cloth fell out of the box when the lid popped open. “NOW LOOK WHAT YOU DID!!”

“NYAHH!” She stuck her tongue out at him and wiggled her fingers, her thumb on her nose.

The green-haired boy launched himself at her, and she took off running, laughing… It was less than a week after that she’d fallen, broken her neck, reaching for that kit. Zoro went over that Christmas Eve so many times in his mind as he grew up. Every night before Christmas he meditated for her, though he never truly got to the same level of meditation then that he could any other night. If he was more honest with himself, it was because he was stewing over it rather than healing from it, but somehow he didn’t want to be honest with himself… It was like admitting Santa Claus wasn’t real… He just couldn’t do it, and frankly, didn’t want to try…

“OI!!! Earth to knucklehead!! You awake in there?” Pink filled his vision, and slender knuckles rapped on his forehead before he had the wits to smack her hand away.

“What’s the big idea?” He groused, blinking to clear his vision. “I was _trying_ to meditate.”

Perona pouted, her hip cocked out to one side and her chin lifted towards the other. “I _said_ ,” she huffed, “it’s a present, doofus, you’re supposed to open it.”

Zoro looked down at her hands, curled around a big square box with black and pink wrapping paper. Trust the gothic princess to eschew all traditional Christmas colors. He’d almost groan except he sort of appreciated the avoidance of all things red and green. After all, having to wear half of that combination all year round naturally made him a little tired of it.

He smirked with a touch of nostalgia in his eye, taking the gift. “So what is it this year? Snakes and spiders?”

“No!” She huffed again. “Just open the damn thing! Mihawk said you needed a new one.”

Just to make her squirm, he took his time, meticulously slicing the tape and untying the bow, “Don’t you ever call him dad?”

That time she sniffed, but didn’t say anything, clearly impatient for him to open his present.

Zoro snickered, lifting the lid from the box. Inside was a brand new bottle of sword oil, a fresh supply of cotton balls, and microfiber cleaning cloths. His smile was a little warmer, memories of the past warmed by the thoughtfulness of the present.

He leaned over and kissed her cheek, “Thanks, ‘Rona.”

“Yeah, well… it’s not like it’s a big deal.” But she was blushing hard, playing with the hem of her skirt.


	3. Nami - Age 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally going to be a oneshot birthday gift for the amazing [Brid](http://violaland.tumblr.com), but in writing this idea, I was inspired to do the rest of the series and since I was already late in finishing this one..... I hope they don't mind belated presents.
> 
> Also, just a note, the only things I know about Islam are what I've read on Wikipedia and snooped around about on the net, so I **sincerely** apologize if I insult someone!!! I truly don't mean to!
> 
> Enjoy~!

Christmas Eve was never all that busy at Four Blues General, but Vivi Nefertari was sore and tired anyway. Pulling doubles like that, going from the Sunny to the hospital, really wore her down, though she couldn't complain. Chopper had been in right before she left. The teenager hadn't needed to be, but he wanted to make sure all of his favorite nurses—all of them—had something special for Christmas. She held up the tiny candy cane with a smile. It had been years since she could say she truly looked forward to the holidays, but now... with all of that behind them? A touch of color lit up her cheeks as she entered the apartment she still technically shared with her father. Tomorrow was going to be amazing!

_"Papa, I'm home! Did you get the..."_

Cobra's expression was hard, and she trailed off when she came up to the dining room table. Scattered around him were pages written in an elegant, all-too-familiar, script. Arabic, with traditional detailing around the edges. And she sighed heavily. Of course.

_"There was a letter for you too."_ He tried to hide his discontent poorly, and hurried, as she moved to pick the thick envelope, to add, _"You don't have to read it, if you don't want to. I know you get so worried..."_

_"It's fine, Papa."_ She reached up to pull her sky blue hair from its ponytail, and kissed him on the top of the head. _"I will see what Grandpapa wants, and then I will see about dinner, yeah?"_

_"You are too good to me, Vivi. You do what you want, and then you go see that girly of yours. You work too hard!"_ Cobra chided.

She laughed, slitting the paper with a thumbnail. _"Maybe it's because I love you."_

Predictably the letter within was long-winded, and archaically written. Standard over-praising of Allah, and conservative drivel, and all of the closed-minded things that had chased the vibrant young woman from her family's faith long before she realized it wasn't about the things they tried to impress on her. Truly, she was saddened somewhat by the way it had been tainted in her childhood, because she thought maybe if she didn't have the memories of being forced into clothing she hated, and rituals that restricted her ability to think for herself, she probably could have come to embrace Islam the way her father did. But her grandfather's spin on it... it made her shudder to think about. And mentally, she apologized both to Allah and to her father for her inability to extract the bad from the good.

One paragraph in particular caught her attention, and she found herself sinking onto the couch cushions, vaguely nauseous, though unable to look away from it:

_"Heathen daughter of my former son's loins, your soul be saved by Allah, praise be to Allah, it has been two summers since last we spoke of your blasphemy and it is high time you returned to the fold from whence you emerged blessed and breathing in Allah's Name, praise be to Allah. Your dowry has been destroyed and given to your intended blessed husband as penance for your profane ways. Return and seek to make amends for your discretions and you will still be accepted as a second wife, able to bear him many sons and lift his name again to the Heavens and Light of Allah, praise be to Allah. Your indecency shall be forgiven for all you have done as you are but a woman, and Allah is forgiving of those who sin, praise be to Allah."_

It went on like that for several more lines, but Vivi's vision was blurry with rage. She crumpled the expensive paper and threw it violently across the room.

_"Oh! Oh oh! I knew it would bring no good. Come here, baby girl, it's okay!"_ Cobra pulled her into his arms, tears in his own eyes at seeing how badly the letter hurt. _"They have no power over you, or me, or even Kohza. Shhh."_

_"I hate them!! I know I shouldn't, but I do! Papa! Why?! Why can I not forgive them!?"_

_"Because they are not forgivable by human hearts. They must answer for their sins the same as we all will. And Allah is wiser than all of His creations. They will learn, my girl, and you will never have to worry about them again."_ He held her close, letting her angry tears stain his shirt. _"But!! But but but!!"_ He pulled back after moment, and tucked a finger under her chin, _"Look see on the mantle! What else the postman brought today."_

She turned, wiping her face, and gave a small exclamation, _"Kohza!"_

Her former fiancé, who was, at the moment, reclining on a beach in Aruba, had remained a friend to his childhood playmate and companion throughout the entire ugly mess two years ago. The envelope was plain compared to her grandfathers; just simple white paper decorated with a few holiday stickers in the corners. The letter inside was written on simple hotel stationery and included was a photograph of himself and Pell, leaning into each other and laughing, wearing nothing but board shorts. Both of them were sunburned cherry red.

His tone was equally different, light and warm as the sun from the picture. _”Hey Vivi, look at us! Almost Christmas and here we are, a pair of roasting geese. Happy Holidays to you from Aruba! No those are not mojitos in our hands, they just LOOK like mojitos. Now, knowing you've probably got other things to do, I'm going to shamelessly take up your time by writing to you all the things we've done since we've gotten to this lovely piece of sand that turned us both into lobsters...”_

He went on to tell her they'd tried to surf, and broken both boards while doing so—much to their embarrassment. They’d gone diving for clams and seen the reefs. A carnival distracted them from getting back to their hotel, and a bonfire on the beach kept them out all night long! Overall they were experiencing as much as they could get out of the island. He said that they missed her, Pell especially, because they thought she and Nami would just LOVE the heat and the swimming in the crystal-clear waters.

By the time she finished she was laughing hard enough that she had tears running down her face. The drama of her grandfather was not forgotten exactly, but she pushed aside to worry about later. She folded the letter carefully back into its envelope and stuck both it and the picture back on the mantle. Then she started towards the kitchen to make supper.

_"Ah tah tah tah! No no. You go changed and get off to that girlfriend of yours."_ Cobra caught her by the shoulders and turned her towards her bedroom.

_"But Papa..."_

_"Don't you but Papa me, you haven't had any alone time with her in almost a week, now git!"_ He bopped her on the behind to make her jump forward, and turned his back on the whole thing, humming a traditional carol under his breath and absolutely refusing to be swayed on the matter.

Which was how Vivi found herself strapped into a pair of ice skates, downtown in front of the city’s Christmas tree, and under siege to cheer up and ‘forget all that fuddy-duddy old-fashioned nonsense already!’

“C’mon, Vivi, it’ll be fun!”

“I don’t know about that.”

But the blue-haired woman had very little choice in the matter as her girlfriend hauled her back up to her feet. Her hands clung to Nami’s sleeves and her whole lower body shook, with absolutely no traction under her.

“I-I-I… N-Namiiiii!!!!”

The redhead laughed and skated backwards, away from the bench, and out towards the middle of the rink. They started going a little faster, and Vivi screamed, lost her balance and brought them both down onto the ice in a tangle of scarves and frost.

“Oh! Oh oh! Are you okay?!” She was quick to push herself up onto her hands and knees, but Nami was simply laughing more.

“You’re so uptight.” Her brown eyes sparkled. “You need to relax.”

“How can I relax when I feel like I’m going to fall!?”

“Everybody falls at first. C’mon.” Nami slid to the side a little and climbed back to her feet, easily balancing on the ice.

Vivi wasn’t so sure, clinging hard to her girlfriend’s hands as she tried to maintain her upright position a second time. “Why are we doing this?”

“To have fun!”

“How is falling on the cold, hard, ice fun?”

“Because you’re with me, and I’ll make sure you don’t fall.” Vivi gave her a look, and Nami closed one eye in a rueful smile, “Okay, anymore. I’ll make sure you don’t fall. Anymore.”

The taller woman didn’t look convinced. So her girlfriend closed the distance between them, wrapping her strong arms around her waist, and reached up to peck her on the lips.

“Trust me, babe.”

As always that phrase, from that mouth, with those eyes, and nnnnnngh! Vivi melted, “I do…”

“Great!” Nami pulled back, letting her go all but for her hands, and pushed off to get them moving again. “Don’t worry, it’s like riding a bicycle!”

“I can’t do that either!!”

“What?! No matter, we’ll fix that come summer, but for now just know it’s easier to stay up once you’re moving. Just do what I do.”

Vivi concentrated very hard on what Nami was doing with her feet, and just couldn’t get it. Push and swish? Or swish then push? Or swish while pushing?? Her confusion wrinkled her brow and not for the first time since winter had fallen did she regret no longer wearing her hijab. Out on the ice, with the wind blowing through her ponytail, and the snow in the air, she was freezing! That wasn’t the reason she’d originally worn it, of course, but the difference between last year and this was marked! She hadn’t realized how insulating it had been!! The cold was making it harder to pay attention.

That seemed to work in her favor, however, because while she wasn’t focused on what she was doing, she hadn’t realized that she’d relaxed into Nami’s grip. They were on their third lap around the rink when Vivi looked up at the passing evergreen tree and gasped.

“We’re skating!”

“Yeah! You just noticed?” Nami laughed, spinning them a little, and drawing her girlfriend closer again.

Vivi wasn’t ready for that move. Her original panic came back and the tension of her reaction threw them off again. This time though Nami controlled their fall so that all they did was land on a bench at the edge, rather than sprawled in the middle of the rink where they could have been in someone’s way—like the first time.

She reached a gloved hand out to brush the powder blue bangs out of Vivi’s face, and smiled. “How about some hot chocolate and chestnuts?”

“Ah, are you… um… I mean yeah, but you don’t have to stop on my account!”

“Nah. It’s not as much fun without you, and you look done.”

The younger of the two blushed through her cold-rosy cheeks, “Is it bad if I agree with you?”

“Of course not! That’s why I suggested it, silly!” Nami pulled her closer and gave her another kiss. “Now, c’mon, let’s go get warm! Then maybe we can do a little shopping for your dad!”

Vivi laughed brightly, “Okay!”

About an hour later, the two flopped with their packages into one of the booths at Iggy & Terry’s Diner. Being as it was Christmas Eve evening, there weren’t many people left out and about, so the two girls didn’t see any trouble with piling their bags of gifts into the booth behind Vivi before opening a menu to share.

“Oh, it’s been so long since I’ve had Terry’s soup! I have to have a cup of her chicken noodle!!” Nami’s eyes lit up as soon as she saw it.

Vivi laughed, “You should tell me these things. Papa comes here every day for lunch. He could bring you some.”

“I don’t wanna make work for your dad like that though. He’s got enough stress as it is.”

“Trust me, he’s happier now. Politics and business and trading non-material things, bah! It made his head spin! Working with his hands, even if it’s just sweeping the floor or hanging clothes on the racks, it makes him feel more accomplished. And the fact that he can help out Keimi makes it better.”

“I never get over there either. It’s a wonder I even had time to come out with you today! She’s right next door every day and I never have the chance to go see her or Pappagu. I feel horrible about it.” The redhead flopped her face onto her arms, her hair forming a halo around her on the table.

Her girlfriend rescued the menu and set it off to the side, “Well things should calm down a little now though, right? I mean the holidays will be over in another week, and then Luffy’s big fight against Tea—”

“Don’t say his name!!” Nami’s eyes flashed over the edge of her arms.

“Oops! Sorry! I know I know! I just don’t have the same scruples about names that you do. He’s a rotten stinking mean person, but he’s still just a man.” Vivi shrugged.

Before Nami could launch into her well-rehearsed spiel about him, Igaram appeared at their table with two glasses of water and a pot of coffee with the mugs hooked on the spout. He cleared his throat before speaking, “Ma-ma-ma, my it’s good to see you, Miss Vivi, Miss Nami, and on such a busy busy day.”

“Igaram!” Vivi beamed up at him, “Merry holidays!”

“And the same to you. Terry has—” his voice garbled, so he cleared it again, “Ma-ma-ma~! Terry has something special for you both. She was going to send it home with your father when he stopped in earlier, but he said he suspected you would be dropping by, and here you are.”

“Oh?” Nami, ever on the look out for a deal even from friends and family, perked up at the thought of free food.

Her girlfriend laughed behind her hand because it really was a little contradictory considering how much they’d just spent on gifts for the others, but at the same time, she found it adorable. Nobody could pinch a penny the way Nami could. She had a magic with numbers.

“Start on your coffee and I’ll—ma-ma-ma—I’ll get it for you.” Igaram beamed at them both, taking joy in their happiness with a secret sort of air that had both young women watching him curiously as he made his way back to the kitchen.

Through the service window they could see into where Terracota, Terry for short, was cooking up a storm, her bouncy curls pulled back into a high tail that nearly rivaled Vivi’s. She seemed quite busy with whatever their special treat was, and the Egyptian woman grew contemplative over her coffee mug. To an outsider it would appear as though she was merely watching the cook, but to her partner, she was obviously distracted.

“You’re thinking about the letter again.” Nami said with a definitive sniff that made Vivi blush. “Hmph. Old fuddy-duddies don’t know what they’re missing by cutting you out like this.”

“It’s not that. I just…”

“Just what?” She reached over to take her slender fingers between her own and gave them a small squeeze.

Vivi set her coffee down and sighed slightly, “It didn’t really hit me until today, but I’m all disconnected. You convinced me to strike out on my own, and don’t get me wrong, I love it! Dying my hair, wearing whatever I want without having to worry about people staring at me, the piercings...” She blushed deeper, biting her lip when Nami sniggered. “And… I feel horrid saying this… like I’m betraying something… but I was happy… not fasting for Ramadan.”

“But?”

“But… am I losing myself? While trying to find myself?” Her brows folded together. “I just worry about what Papa is thinking. He never says anything against what I’m doing, and has always been supportive when I come to him about it, but… I feel a bit as though I’m turning my back on my culture.”

Nami merely nodded, still holding her hand and sipping at her own coffee.

“I don’t want to lose everything just because I am embracing new things. Coming here, meeting you, spreading my wings for the first time, and just... everything! It’s all been so amazing! I just… I’m scared.”

The redhead gave a nod, and inhaled, contemplating her words for a moment. “Well… what about the best of both worlds? I… still don’t know how the he-jab business works, so you’ll have to decide all of that on your own, but maybe this Ramadan you could give up some things, but not everything? Or maybe you could wear some other symbol of your religion and heritage without going full veils and scarves that I cannot begin to pronounce the names of. Wow… I sound so insensitive…” Nami ducked her head, blushing nervously. “Maybe… I could be your project? You teach me about the things that you grew up with, and maybe in doing that you’ll learn what you want to embrace and what you want to throw away. Yeah?”

Vivi laughed, squeezing her girlfriend’s hand. “Yeah. Let’s start with the name. It’s _hijab,_ not he-jab.”

“Hijab?”

“Close.” The blunette nodded still chuckling as Igaram and Terry both came up to the table.

“We thought you might be a little homesick this year, since you didn’t come to the feast with your father in October.” Terry set the plates down in front of the girls, piled high with roasted meat kebabs nestled on a bed of rice and grilled vegetables.

Igaram stepped in behind her with a bowl of hummus and pita chips, and a salad of feta cheese and tomatoes with olive oil and garlic for flavor. He topped off their coffee pot with his other hand, and Terry completed the spread with crepes that smelled faintly of sweet cheese.

“Terry, are those _Qatayef?!”_ Vivi looked back and forth between the food and the woman who had been one of the first people to welcome them to Four Blues City. “And lamb?! You shouldn’t have!” She had tears in the corners of her eyes, “And pilaf… Terry…”

The big woman just bent down and hugged her hard, “You’re just about as close to a daughter as I have, huny, and since we missed your holidays…”

“I hope it’s okay.” Igaram didn’t even try to clear his throat that time.

“Yes! Yes! A million times yes! Thank you!!” Vivi was actually crying by then as she jumped out of the booth to hug them both more easily.

Terry rubbed her back, “Did we get it right? I wasn’t sure on which food went with which holiday.”

“It doesn’t matter. Not right now. Just the fact that you guys tried means more than I can say. Did you give some to Papa? Neither of us cooks well enough to make it at home, and he hasn’t had good hummus in months!” Vivi looked between the two of them, wiping her cheeks.

Nami laughed, “I’m sure they did, now c’mon, you’re letting it get cold!”

“Okay, okay!” The taller of the two slid back into her place in the booth, still grinning like crazy. “Lemme just…”

The three of them nodded, Terry and Igaram joining them at the table since the shop was slow, and she folded her hands for a short prayer that she hadn’t used in months. Finally, she felt like she was allowed to do so again, without either feeling constrained by her conservative family’s views, or like she was faking it.

As soon as she was done, she grinned up at them, _“Let’s eat!”_


	4. Usopp - Age 11 and 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't know that there's any warnings for this one really, I mean Usopp's an orphan and Kuro's a scumbag, but... otherwise... yeah. Enjoy! ^_^

“Betcha he’s a great pirate!” A collective groan echoed down the bunk room, but the young storyteller ignored them, jumping to the head of his bed to pose with a foot on the end of the frame.

“What’s the story this time, Usopp?” Someone called.

Someone else threw a pillow at him, “What’s it matter!? Go to bed!!”

But a collection of the other boys in the room gathered around him, and he soaked up the attention with a huge grin. “He’s strong and brave and he’s gotta stick by his captain or else the whole crew’ll fall apart!”

“If he’s so great, where’s he at?”

“They sail all over the world!” Usopp defended.

Somebody snorted, “Yeah? Why?”

“Cuz they’re on the run from the government.” A gasp rippled through his audience, and he leaned over the edge down at them with a dark light in his eyes. “They saved a princess in this desert country across the ocean, see, but the navy don’t wanna admit that pirates did it. So, he’s gotta help them keep a weather eye out for marines and coast guard ships!” He mimicked it, using his hands to adjust his invisible spyglass. “And he’s gotta keep ‘em a step ahead cuz otherwise they’ll find out about me!”

“Why, Usopp!? Why?!” His fans leaned in closer while the ones who’d been doubting him were trying to listen without being caught. They didn’t want to admit that maybe the little liar just might be right.

“Cuz if they knew about me,” like a monkey the curly-haired boy swung up onto the top bunk. He jammed his thumb into his chest, boasting proudly, “they’d have to take me into custody cuz of my sniping skills!” Another groan came from the doubters, but he ignored them again, “And it don’t matter that I’m just a kid, if they catch him and his crew, they’ll be scared cuz as soon as they shake the navy tail, he’s gonna come take me to join the crew with him. And we’ll be unstoppable!”

He flopped back onto the bed, having realized most of the other kids had stopped listening, too tired to stay awake any longer. With a small sigh, he reached up to press his hand against the photographs on the wall over his head. The one to the right held his mother in the arms of a man he’d never met. He was broad-shouldered, with a heavy nose and an expressive mouth. His hair was lighter than Usopp’s—just as curly though—and his skin was darker. The man’s eyes smiled out at the camera, obviously held at arm’s length. The other picture was of him and his mom before she got sick. Her smile was bright, and their hair was a combined tangle of crazy filling up the entire background. He booped her nose—just like she used to do to him—just like he did every night. Then he rolled over and flipped off his light.

“Someday… we’ll be unstoppable.” He whispered into the darker room.

The next day one of the smallest boys in the home jumped him out of a dead sleep, “USOPP! IT SNOWED!!”

“Nngh? Snow?” He twisted to pull the weak slat away from the shutter on the window.

At first he couldn’t actually look outside, it was too bright, but after blinking the tears away from his eyes, he couldn’t have contained the smile if he tried. Everything was white! At least four inches on top of the dingy grey stuff that had already been piled up from the last time it snowed. The picnic table was nearly buried completely under a drift, and one of the rusty swings they used for a jungle gym to get into the solitary tree was frozen to the branch.

He pulled back and looked around; the grin on his face sent the message through the group of them.

“Oh no! No no no! Last time you tried that we _all_ got in trouble!” One of the older boys crossed his arms over his chest.

“Aw, c’mon, Lucci. Pussy-man’s gonna want us to shovel the walk anyway. Why not?” One of the others reasoned, tugging a ball cap over his ginger hair.

Lucci flicked the brim, “Cuz I don’t wanna be on gruel for Christmas, Kaku!”

“That’s sexual harassment.”

“You ain’t even supposed to be in here, Kalifa!” Lucci jabbed his finger at the blonde girl in the doorway, but all she did was sniff and adjust her glasses.

One of the younger boys waddled up dragging his blanket and tugged on Lucci’s shirt. “Hey, what’s Christmas like out there?”

Usopp jumped out of bed, already in storyteller mode, and hauled the ball-shaped boy up into his arms in spite of him almost being too heavy for it. “You’d never believe it, Fukuro!”

Somehow the young sniper managed to swing the chubby kid around to bounce on the bottom bunk of the closest set of beds without either falling or appearing out of breath. Behind him Lucci rolled his eyes, but said nothing.

“It’s amazing!” Usopp climbed atop a chair and spread his arms wide, “The whole house turns into candy with gumdrops for lights and icing on the walls in green and red and gold and silver. The fireplace has HUGE socks hanging from the top with sparkling gold hooks! And there’s a tree inside!”

“Get out!” Fukuro was star-struck, sucking on the zipper of his blanket.

“Really! Strings of glowing sugar lights and balls of candy the size of your head hanging from the branches! Peppermint sticks and popcorn and candied fruits and chocolate and caramel and any other kind of sweet that you can think of! And then Santa Claus—“

“SANTA ISN’T REAL!” One of the other big boys bellowed from the back near their coats and snowboots were kept.

“SHADDUP, PAULIE!” Lucci bellowed back.

The coward’s stories about Santa were his favorite part, though the hardnosed pre-teen wouldn’t admit it out where anyone could actually hear him say it. Kaku nudged him with a smirk, and he bared his teeth at the other boy. That didn’t help his cause though, because Kalifa raised her eyebrow knowingly and a couple of the others all smiled at him until he growled, jerking his head towards Usopp for them to pay attention.

The sniper was hip deep in the tale of a blue-nosed reindeer that had to nurse Rudolph’s sore throat so he could guide Santa’s sleigh. “And then Dr. Chopper tied his magic cherry blossom petal scarf around Rudolph’s neck and the cough went away like that!” He snapped his fingers and the youngest boys gasped, “He bounced out of bed, galloping around the ceiling cuz he felt so much better! He bounded out the window and right up to Santa despite Dr. Chopper yelling at him to take it easy! And Christmas was saved!!”

“YEAH!!!!!!!!!” The cheer rang out from not just the ones who were hearing it for the first time.

“WHAT ARE YOU BRATS DOING YELLING AND CHEERING!?” The door slammed open with a resounding boom that echoed in the following silence.

Usopp dove off the chair, hiding behind Kaku and Kumadori. The rest of the room froze, staring at their guardian with no small amount of fear. His flunkies, the Meowban Brothers, hovered behind the wiry man looking smug and full of themselves. Lucci wanted to claw their eyes out; a sentiment most of the collected foster kids shared about the snitches. Sure as Usopp’s eye, if something was happening that Mr. Kuro wasn’t supposed to know about, and either Butchie or Siam found out… it wouldn’t be ten minutes before they squealed. Not like it did them any good though, Mr. Kuro didn’t treat them any better than the rest of them, but they kept doing it anyway.

“There’s a foot of snow on my front walk! Get moving! If you’re lucky there’ll be breakfast still when you’re done!” Nobody blinked. “NYOWWWWWWWWW!”

The shout rang in their ears as everybody scrabbled for their coats and boots and scarves. The oldest boys had gloves first, because they would take up the metal shovels. The rest of them grabbed extra pairs of underwear to use as hats, and Fukuro zippered up his blanket to use as an extra wrap around his shoulders. Then they poured out past the adult in spite of having only just woken up less than an hour ago and most of them were still in their pyjamas.

By the time half of the front walk was clear, most of them had numb fingers and the littler ones were huddled in a circle for body warmth.

Lucci, Kaku, Kalifa, Paulie, and the twins, Mozu and Kiwi, were still working at the end of the long sidewalk that connected the group home to the street. There was ice under the snow and the twin girls kept one hand on each side of Paulie’s jacket for balance, because all they had for shoes were threadbare sneakers. The burly blond boy was blushing all the way to the ridges of his ears, and shoveling all the harder for it. Unfortunately his swings were also wild, meaning that half the time he was shoveling _onto_ Lucci’s section.

“Control your floozies, Paulie!” The dark-haired boy snarled after getting a face full of snow.

The other flailed, “IT’SNOTMYFAULT! LEGGO!!”

“AHH!!”

Mozu was shaken off and in the process her feet slipped out from under her. She flew into her sister, who screamed in echo of her, and they both crashed into Kaku, who ended up face first into the snow bank next to the fence. The normally unflappable ginger snorted and spat, wiping his eyes, his precious hat soaked. It was a couple of inches away, and he didn’t notice when he grabbed it, that it was full of snow.

So, whipping up to put it back on flung the frozen water into Kalifa’s back. She inhaled sharply, spinning with a shovel of the stuff to fling at Lucci, but he ducked and it landed on top of Kumadori, who fell over dramatically clutching his chest.

“MOMMA!! I’LL JOIN YOU SOON!! THE WORLD’S GROWING DARKER!!”

“I’LL AVENGE YOU, DORI!!” Fukuro cried, leaping off of the porch, his blanket trailing out behind him.

His cannonball into the snow sprayed Blueno and Bonney. The first did nothing, but the second whirled around, fire in her eyes, and a handful of snow to throw at somebody. All she needed was a target.

She wouldn’t get it though, because as soon as she aimed for Paulie, a snowball—well-made and fired faster than someone could throw from her left—smacked her in the side of the face.

“USOPP!!” She screeched.

The tell-tale yellow-blue-red flash of the Sniper King’s scarf ducked around the corner of the building, and just like that the game was on. Everybody forgot about their frozen fingers and toes, scooping up snow to throw at each other. Most of it was Lucci’s gang against Usopp and the rest of them, but really it was a free-for-all with friendly fire ensuring that by the time the sun was wending on towards the horizon not a one of them was dry. At some point the Meowban brothers tried to sneak inside to tattle, but the rest of them ganged up on the two to ensure that their game wouldn’t be cut short.

The walk never did get fully cleared that day, and half of them went to bed hungry. Usopp remembered clearly the way Mr. Kuro’s forehead had turned purple when he was screaming at them later. He’d been sure at the time that the man was going to literally blow a gasket, and with a morbid sense of nostalgia, he could still clearly call up the feeling of wishing it would have actually happened as he fell asleep that night.

But… if anybody ever asked, that was best Christmas he ever had when he was growing up, and he was pretty sure the rest of his roommates would agree with him.

He made the mental note to ask the ones he was still in contact with, and hefted the bag of presents higher in his arms. With a well-practiced eye, he surveyed the front walk of Four Blues City Teen Shelter as he turned to walk along it. Mr. Kuro might even have given a nod for how clear it was. He smiled, stomping his boots on the welcome mat.

“Ah, Mr. Sogerex.” The pleasant, grandfatherly-type, man that opened the door had short curly white hair that never failed to stick up in a couple of places giving him the appearance of a sheep.

He stepped back for Usopp to enter, and the taller, younger, man grinned more brightly. “Merry Christmas, Mr. Merry!”

“Merry Christmas to you too!”

The front hall looked nothing like it had when Usopp lived there. Brighter, warmer, more welcoming, but above all, at this time of the year, a truly _massive_ evergreen tree, all decked out in lights and ornaments, stretched from the first floor all the way up to the railing of the third. If he leaned over the banister, he could _just_ touch the five-pointed star on the top. And he knew that because he had been the one to put it up there when he and his fiancé, Kaya, had brought the thing in a couple of weeks ago.

“I saw the boys did an awesome job on the walk. Must be nice now that they’re old enough to do it for you, eh?” Usopp set his bag down next to the knewl post, and started unwrapping his scarf.

Mr. Merry laughed, the braying sound did nothing to dissuade from the sheep idea. “They’re very helpful, yes. Though they’re something of a handful these days. Makes me glad when you and the others come by to tire them out.”

“Others?”

“Oh yes, Mr. Lucci, and Ms. Awa came by last week and gave a rousing lesson in basic martial arts. Mr. Lucci’s promised to come back once a week to instruct them as long as they behave themselves and his work schedule allows.” Mr. Merry followed him to the coat closet.

Just as he was shutting the door three of the boys they were discussing came whipping down the stairs, yelling and shouting loud enough to echo all the way through to the kitchen.

“USOPP! USOPP!!”

“Aww, don’t put your coat off!”

“Yeah, c’mon, it’s still light out!!”

“You promised a fight with the great Sogeking!”

In spite of not being at all related, the three of them spoke as though they were triplets, and three distinct yet different smiles pleaded with him to please, please, please take them outside for a snowball fight!! They didn’t quite beg, and they weren’t exactly clasping their hands under their chins, but the twenty-four-year-old storyteller could picture it in his mind even so.

He drew a great breath like he was going to deny them, and all three not-so-subtly leaned in until he acquiesced with a great, “Mmmokay.” They were off and running for their coats even before he could call out to them, “Don’t forget your… scarves…” He looked at Mr. Merry with a fond wince, “Why do I bother?”

The older man just laughed, “Because you love them.”

“HA!” Usopp pulled on his coat and scarf again, making his way for the door. “And they call me a liar! The Great Ca—AHHH!!”

The trio bull-rushed him out of the house and it was all he could do to keep ahead of them as they immediately started to fling snow at him the second their boots touched the stuff. He screamed louder and bee-lined for the backyard, shouting boasts about his eight thousand followers and how much trouble the three were going to be in when he caught them. Not once did any of them, including Usopp, stop smiling.


	5. Sanji - Age 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings this time, just some good old fashioned Baratie love! With a special appearance by Alex, the mysterious older brother. o3o ((Don't worry, you'll learn all about him in the main story eventually, and yes, he is an OP canon character. *wink*))

“And then the ghost of Christmas present raise its hand, the fingers no more than skeletal bones wrapped in dried leather, to point at the tombstone. Scrooge fell to his knees pleading with the spirit, ‘no no, please, Spirit, I have changed! Tell me that I may sponge out the writing on this stone!’ But the spirit had no comfort for him. In fact it said nothing at all as the bells of the church began to toll, the message clear, Scrooge would die!”

“AHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!”

“Oh c’mon, it’s not even that scary!”

“ _Pape!! Pape!!”_ The seven-year-old dashed into the kitchen, ducking around the other cooks, nearly in tears, to hide in front of the head chef. “ _Pape!_ Alex is telling scary stories! He said he wouldn’t! He said it was a good story, but it was ghosts and bad men and people making fun of people and I don’t wanna die!!!”

“What the shit, little eggplant!” Zeff looked down with a stern scowl. Then he registered what the child was saying, and bellowed, “STRING BEAN, GET YOUR SCRAWNY ASS IN HERE!”

“What?!” The lanky teen crossed his arms over his chest and rolled his eyes. “It’s just the Christmas Carol.”

“Right and I’m _Pere Noel_ , pull the other one. Grab your apron, you know better.”

“Ugh, fine! But if I don’t toughen him up, who will? You coddle him, Old Man!”

Zeff looked down at the younger boy while the older stalked off to the supply closet. “Go on.”

“What?!” Sanji looked up blinking.

“Yours too, little eggplant.”

“But I didn’t do anything!! It’s all his fault!!”

“You’re in the kitchen aren’t you?”

“UGH! FINE!”

Patty leaned over from where he was layering slices of potato into a casserole dish, “You know they’re more alike than they like to admit. I bet they’re arguing over who gets to pull the sugar for the candy canes right now.”

“As if either of them could do it right, all scrawny and undergrown.” Carne laughed from the other side of the station, the finely grated cheese in front of him in a neat pile.

Zeff said nothing, carrying his roasting pan in both hands. On his way back, however, the two sous chefs suddenly cried out, hopping on one foot, one right after the other. With a satisfied twitch of his impressive moustache, the head chef moved back to where his boys were indeed arguing over the candy cane base.

“EGGPLANT! STRING BEAN! KNOCK IT OFF!” His peg leg clocked both of them across the back of the head.

Both boys huffed identically, in spite of there being ten years difference between their ages.

Zeff resisted answering either attitude by simply moving over to the mound of boiled sugar. He hefted it from the table and threw it to Alex, who threw it to Sanji, who threw it back to their father. Within minutes the family tradition erased the lingering shadows of resentment, and both boys were laughing as the candy grew whiter with each toss.

The head chef took a moment to glance at the picture of the bright woman above his desk, just visible from where the three were aerating the candy, and he smiled. Sanji nearly caught him in the face with the sugar and his attention was drawn away from the missing person in their number.

“Oi! Watch it, brat!” He groused at the little eggplant, only to have them both laugh at him, just the same way Carmen did any other time he got too sentimental over her photograph.

They struck a rhythm after that, meshing into the sounds of the kitchen around them. Catch, toss, chop-chop, scraaaaaaaape, toss, and catch. Chop chop. Patty’s laughter. ‘Order up!’ Catch, toss, chop-chop. Alex caught Sanji’s eye with a grin.

His voice rang out over the din, unbroken and clear, _“There's a hero's tale of a ship that sails under distant stars somewhere far away, and she's bound for glory, on a foreign shore, but the hero's every boy who sailed off to war.”_

_“Somewhere far away there's a soldier boy who dreams a dream of home,”_ Zeff couldn’t hold a tune in a bucket, but at this time of year, the cadence made the candy-making easier to follow. The catch and toss matched the pattern of the song easily, so he gave his gruff attempt, if only to bring back memories of the boys’ mother, _“where a nightingale sings a promise to the ones who sleep alone. Spring is in the air with scent of cherry blossom in the glen, whispering a prayer, saying bring our heroes safely home again.”_

Alex made an encouraging nod at his little brother, trying to get him to join in, “ _So the willows weep, and the candles burn, for there is no sleep for the ones who yearn. As I tell your story, with a thankful heart. You are always in our thoughts though we are worlds apart.”_

The thing was though; Sanji was very shy about his voice. For a boy it was quite high, and it embarrassed him often. Especially since he knew they wouldn’t be able to afford the hormone blockers for him any more than they had been able to afford them for Alex. The difference was Alex’s voice was naturally deeper.

Still… If the Old Man could give it his all in a repetition of the chorus…

_“Where are you?”_ Sanji’s clear soprano burst from his throat, color high on his cheeks as he caught and released the candy again.

His older brother answered him, _“Somewhere far away.”_

Which gave him slightly more confidence to reach for the whistle notes only he could manage, _“We miss you more with each new day...”_

A few of the other cooks in the Baratie’s kitchen joined in for the round they made out of the final chorus. Alex led them, followed by an enthusiastic Sanji, and Zeff’s non-harmonic baritone covered the third group while the rest of the staff fell in and out of each set of voices as they lost their place only to pick it back up again with someone else.

_“Somewhere far away there's a soldier boy who dreams a dream of home where a nightingale sings a promise to the ones who sleep alone. Spring is in the air with scent of cherry blossom in the glen, whispering a prayer, saying bring our heroes safely home again.”_

All the while, they kept the rhythm going, the candy tossed in time to the chopping of vegetables, and even the wait staff picked up the beat in their staccato steps, dress shoes ringing on the tiles as they carried trays of orders out to the dinner crowd. By the time Alex and Zeff dropped out for Sanji to finish them off the boiled sugar base was pearlescent white and ready to be rolled with the red stripes and stretched into sticks.

So the three separated, the patriarch moving to mould the log of red and white peppermint so that Alex, with his almost-adult muscles could pull and roll out four-inch sticks, which Sanji wrapped in plastic and tucked into a display to finish cooling before they could be eaten. Though they didn’t need it, the melody of the song stuck in their heads, and out through the youngest’s lips unconsciously.

Alex nudged their father, and smirked about it.

The head chef raised an eyebrow as though to question his older boy’s motivation, but neither said anything for fear of stopping their little nightingale.

It wasn’t until he’d moved off with a full tray of candy canes that Zeff let Alex say anything. “He sounds like Mom.”

“Mmph. Don’t let him hear you say that. He’ll try to fight you again.”

“Aw, it’s good for him! And besides! He should know he’s good! He should practice it. Maybe have more skills than just slaving away under your thumb all the time.”

“Watch it, String Bean!” Zeff cuffed him lightly, “Now take the rest of this upstairs.” Alex huffed and moved off to the sound of his father calling, “AND YOU KEEP THAT COMMENT TO YOURSELF, BRAT! YOU HEAR ME?!”

“Yeah yeah! Don’t bellow, Old Man. Some of us aren’t deaf like you are.”

It was after the dining room officially closed that Sanji caught up with his father again. The head chef was balancing the daily log, reading glasses perched on the bridge of his prominent nose, his toque sat carefully out of the way, and with each new equation, his impressive moustache gave a small twitch indicating how hard he was concentrating. The bigger the twitch, the tougher the problem.

The seven-year-old leaned on the edge of the desk to one side, looking down at the books without actually glancing at Zeff. “42.”

“What?”

“The answer. You wrote 24. It’s 42. You switched the numbers.”

The moustache twitched. Hard. And Zeff fixed the mistake without comment. He followed the column down with fewer facial hair movements though, and when he reached the end of the page, he let his eyes drift over to his younger boy.

“What do you want, little eggplant? I know you didn’t come in here just to double check my accounting.”

Sanji squirmed, his eyes shifting about the room anywhere but his father’s face or the brilliant picture of the woman hung on the wall above it. Except that the single visible oceanic orb kept landing on her over and over again.

“Ah.”

“Ah what, shit geezer!?” The tiny blond’s temper flared to cover his embarrassment.

That earned him a knock to the rear from the Adam wood pegleg. “Ah is you want to know more about your mother. Out with it.”

“DON’T HIT PEOPLE, SHITTY OLD MAN!” Sanji growled, and Zeff hit him again.

“HAVE MORE RESPECT FOR YOUR ELDERS, SHITTY EGGPLANT BRAT!”

He landed on the floor that time, his head down with his long bangs over both eyes. He was pouting, as usual, but whatever his question was, he obviously cared more about it than he let on because he wasn’t storming off to his room like usual. So Zeff let him stew in it for a while, tidying up things in the office that didn’t really need it, but took up enough time that the boy could work through his snitfit enough to actually ask his question. Sometimes the head chef was sure he was going to end up going grey and bald just from the stress of raising such petulant children.

Eventually, Sanji mumble, “That song.”

“Yeah?”

“We sing it every year.”

“Yeah.”

“Why?” He looked up to meet his father’s gaze, confusion and a touch of grief on his face.

It had been three years since his mother’s death, and the last year, changing his name, cutting his hair, adjusting to things… it weighed on his tiny shoulders. Within the privacy of his own mind, Zeff wished he could just pull the child up into his lap and hold him, the way he had years ago, when he was really little. Things were easier then. They didn’t have to worry about someone saying the wrong thing, or treating him differently just because he wasn’t quite like other little boys his age.

The head chef sucked on his teeth and screwed his moustache up to one side. “C’mere, brat.”

Surprisingly, for once, Sanji came willingly; climbing up into his father’s lap so they could both look at his mother’s picture. He gave into the—as he deemed it—childish urge to rest his head against his father’s chest, and curled into the big man’s embrace like he used to. As though he’d read Zeff’s mind.

They both sighed, and the older’s voice rumbled underneath his ear, “It was a long time ago. The first Christmas I spent with your _Maman_. We were in France when the call went out for able-bodied young men. I don’t remember where we heard it, I think it was some café, but the important part was that the singer wasn’t anybody famous. She had a nice voice, but your _Maman_ sang it better. It was stupid superstition, but it made her feel better to sing it while we worked. Call it good luck, or whatever, but they never called my number. The year after that and the year after that and the year after _that_. Your _Maman_ sang it at Christmas and when it continued that I was not called for the draft, her faith in the song only grew. By the end of the war, she had been singing it so often that it had become tradition and it just wasn’t Christmas without it.”

“It’s not a very Christmassy song.” The boy commented.

Zeff made a noise somewhere between a grumble and a hum, “No, but that’s not what Christmas is about.” Sanji looked up, confused, “Christmas is about tradition and family and caring for each other. It’s good food, stupid arguments over who’s doing what, and spending time with people you don’t get to see too often. It’s about coming together to remind each other why we give a shit the rest of the year, and they hold it at the darkest time of the year because sooner or later the season’s gonna change and the cold’ll go away and everything will be—“

“Hot and humid again, making Patty stink up the joint!”

That earned him a scowl, but it was the one that vibrated the older chef’s moustache, so Sanji knew he was trying his hardest not to laugh. “That too, brat. My point,” Zeff ruffled his hair just to annoy him, “is that sugary sweet carols or super religious bullshit is just what people attach to it. For your _Maman_ it was about wishing that everybody who had to go to fight came home safe, and at the same time hoping I didn’t have to go. She got lucky. Not a lot of others in our class did. So, we keep up the tradition to keep her wish alive.”

“But there’s no war now.” Sanji squirmed, fixing his hair, but still too curious to stop the conversation.

“No, but that doesn’t mean people aren’t fighting somewhere. It’s the thought behind the thing, eggplant, not the thing itself. Now stop being so nosy. Don’t you have dishes to put away?”

“Okay okay!” He huffed, sliding off of his father’s lap and making for the office door. He wasn’t fully satisfied but he knew asking for more would just upset the man.

He got hauled up short just before he left though, Zeff’s voice slightly tighter than before. “You did good, brat. She’d have been proud of you.”

Sanji beamed at him, “I think she’d be proud of you too, _Pape!”_

Then he was gone and Zeff was left to clear his throat. There must have been some dust in the office or something, making his eyes all misty. Yeah. He glanced up at the picture. Dust. Right. With blond hair and bright blue eyes and a heart bigger than the South Blue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: [Somewhere Far Away - Fox Amoore ft Nici Kinsman (AKA Lilypad)](https://soundcloud.com/nicikinsmanmusic/fox-amoore-ft-nici-kinsman)


End file.
